The Massacre of St Petersburg
by mavrosal
Summary: A Pamela Ravenscroft story...The night of Halloween in 1876 has become one of the bloodiest events in Vampire histories. But what really happened in St Petersburg that night, and the nights leading up to it? Adult content
1. Chapter 1

_This story has been sitting on my desktop for over five months now. I've been playing with it that long. The idea came to me back when the Age of Eric contest was announced, I was so excited to enter contest! Needless to say I didn't._

_Not because I didn't want to, but I couldn't find my muse to finish it at the time, so I decided not to push, having fallen in love with writing Pam and wanting to make sure I'd done her justice (I hope I have succeeded)._

_I'd put her away, taking her out to play every now and then, hoping I'd come up with the ending. I did eventually write one. Again I wanted to post it. I didn't._

_I was still not happy with it. By now, I had to admit I was frustrated. If you aren't aware of my writing process, here's the truth, I do hear voices in my head. Pam's voice is very strong, and she is determined I don't leave anything out._

_I've finally come back to it, yet again. This time I decided that I will be posting it as a multi chapter. It has turned into one in the end, starting at just under ten thousand words and is now a little over twenty, and I've still got a ways to go before I'm done editing it, meaning it will most likely grow bigger by the time I'm done._

_I hope you will enjoy this glimpse into Pam's past as much as I do. I love this story, it has been such a process and definitely something I'd never expected I would write._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters from SVM universe, thought the rest are all mine._

_WARNING: This story contains mature language, mature themes, violence, blood, and sex. Please be aware that this story is not for everyone and if you have problems with reading BDSM I would suggest not reading this story, or at least skipping chapter 3._

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There are many who believe that vampires are cold, unfeeling creatures of the night that will kill indiscriminately. We are not, and though killing does bring us a form of pleasure, it is not something we indulge in often. It may be because the ones we hunt can think and speak for themselves. After all, we do not consider a wolf unfeeling for eating its prey. Maybe it is different, but I do not think so. How is our hunting different to that of humans, lions or wolves? They are more likely to kill their prey; we only do it when it is necessary or in the haze of bloodlust.

Feelings.

Like any other creature on this planet we have those too, but we hide ours so deep that most do not see anything but glacial calm, an indifference towards anything that is not relevant to ourselves, our safety and standing. A human would do the same if they had the opportunity to perfect it for as many years as we live. After all, feelings are a weakness that can be used against you.

Few of our kind truly care for humans. We pretend sometimes, but in the end they are all disposable, all sustenance, chattel. If one does stand out from the herd, it would have to be an exemplary creature indeed; those we nurture, and more often than not, turn. In most cases it is a calculated move. Not everyone has the capacity for immortality. Years stretched out in front of you for eternity is a daunting feeling if you do not have a strong will and _joie__ de __vivre_.

I have both in spades.

It takes a while to acclimatise to such a lifestyle, to learn how to hide one's true affection from the world. After all, when one has only a few decades to live, it would be a waste if they were lived without passion. Humans are all so passionate in their feelings, so careless and impulsive when making a decision. It is understandable, their lives finite, each day bringing them closer to the moment when they will find their light snuffed out.

My parents, who loved me dearly despite the fact I was a daughter and not the son they'd hoped for, would have rejoiced that in the end their name lives on in me still, when my brother's line has died out long ago.

I was groomed from a young age to be a wife of wealth, the embodiment of grace and femininity. Those words had different meanings than they do now, and I must confess that though I have put aside most of the teachings from my youth, there are some I still put into practice.

In truth, I had not expected for my human life to end so early. Not that I regret it in the least. My life had barely begun when Eric found me, but I do not hold a grudge against him. I only feel gratitude for his decision. For if he had not seen me that night, had not been taken with me, I would have lived out my short life in chains not of my own making, hating what I had become. It is much better this way. This way I am free to be myself.

Oh, you may be quite certain that I did not seek out such a change, though like any spirited young woman I had craved adventure before the shackles of marriage locked away those dreams, and like most such things in life, it found me. An implacable tide that is life, changing the landscape of your soul sometimes so slowly you do not notice it, but when a storm descends, nothing is the same in its wake.

I've often wondered: If things had turned out differently, would I still be living my undead existence? I have my doubts, for if anything, the events that occurred just shy of the tenth anniversary of my first death became crucial for the tempering of my character so that I would survive the test of time.

Though our race is old, our true origin is unknown. There are legends, as with any other populace, yet none are the concrete truth. When humans were still babies learning to walk on this earth, our people had been running. We were there when the first fires lit, when writing was discovered, and we are still here now, unchanged by time, stagnant in our beauty.

Vampires have been turned from all and every human race that walks this earth, each carrying their faith into their new existence. Some thing themselves damned, others soulless; I prefer to think of it as a blessing, for though we only live at night, we are indeed blessed.

My own gift when I wakened to my second life was that of impeccable memory. I can recall the exact details of every human I have ever fed from, all the vampires I made the acquaintance of, and here I kid you not, every gown that has ever been worn by me.

That night, I can recall with crystal clarity, as though it was burnt into my soul—if I still have one—so I would never had a chance to forget my last moment of whimsical reverie.

It was late October, the year 1876, and a beautiful autumn season had graced us with its presence. The weather in such transient moments oftentimes can be a capricious child. The coldness in the air a sure warning that winter was coming to swaddle everything in its white blanket for a time.

Such things could never be predicted then, not like now, so when the first of the snow fell, the large iridescent flakes dancing through the air around us, I was not eager to welcome it. The same, however, could not be said about my companion.

"I really don't see what's so exciting. It's _snow_," I said, completely exasperated by the growing snow drifts finding their way onto my path.

It came out more of a snarl of sheer frustration, the battle lost already. My lovely new silk shoes were ruined by the small white specks that landed, melted on the delicate fabric. If I was forced to admit it then, it would have been easy to concede that one pair of shoes should not have warranted my foul mood, and yet they were my favourite pair that week. I will not pretend that I have no weaknesses; there are many flaws in me, and one of them is fashion.

"It's _first_ snow, Pamela. A new beginning in a way. Do you not enjoy the longer nights the season has to offer?" He ignored my sulky mood as any parent would.

Though he wasn't my parent in the human sense of the word, he was the one who made me vampire.

My maker.

He became my father, brother, lover, friend. My one companion through the endless nights of our existence.

Eric the Northman is everything and anything I have ever needed at any given moment. Right then, he was just irritating, something he had made a habit of being when around me. Over the years it turned into a game, one he is still a master of, and I but a young pupil.

"It falls, and then melts, ruining all of my best shoes and gowns thanks to your insistence we walk everywhere," I whined. There was no bite to my words; we'd had this discussion for the last five years since we came to St Petersburg.

"It'll give you a reason to visit the modiste again," he pointed out.

I looked up at his face; his eyes sparkled with humour, though there wasn't a hint of it anywhere else. I'd learnt to read his handsome features, enjoying the game of deciphering his moods from the close connection between us. A connection that intertwined us on a more intimate level than two human beings could ever be.

The streets were dark around us save for the flickering gas lit lamps, a novelty in this country, though not so novel for me. I'd travelled enough in civilised places to have become accustomed to certain luxuries. Eric was forever telling me how spoiled I was. It was true. I neither denied nor wanted to alter that truth. Neither Eric nor I needed the extra light; our vision was near perfect in the dim darkness of the night. Even with clouds swaddling the moon and stars above us in a plushy blanket, the night was bright.

A smile tugged at my mouth as I realised his obvious ploy. Eric was as indulgent with me as my own human father had been, betimes more so. I didn't need a reason to visit the modiste; as a matter of fact I had visit Madame Fioriche just last week. She had a lovely fashion plate of a new evening gown I was of a mind to order in beautiful cobalt blue silk. Maybe the blue shoes with the silver thread to match—

I was rudely snapped out of my thoughts as Eric's arm grabbed me by the waist, picking me up effortlessly off the ground as he moved. The extra speed would have made us a blur to human eyes as he flew us into the darker side alley. The impact of cold hard stone against my back wasn't cushioned by the fur coat, or the silky dress that acted as a barrier. Lust rose in me at the same time as mild pain spread down my back, a pleasured kiss searing my blood.

I had been vampire for almost a decade, we had been together for just as long, but his close proximity, combined with a look that spoke of wicked things done in the night, never ceased to make my body ache for him.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, and my voice came out husky.

My face instinctively turned up to his as he pushed me further into the uncompromising cold wall, lifting me up to his level. Eric was tall, all lean muscle and strength, uncompromisingly male. I savoured the sensation of the almost painful hold he had on me.

"I'm providing you with a reason to order a new dress," Eric said with a promise of something wicked in his words. His lips descended onto mine before I could so much as voice a protest; not that I would have.

My agitation over the ruined shoes melted under Eric's ceaseless ministrations. It was ever so hard to resist him in this kind of mood. Not that I will ever be able resist him; it isn't part of my nature. He is my maker, and will forever be a part of me, his moods influencing mine, his happiness an integral part of mine. Besides, Eric has never forced me into any situation I would find truly distasteful, and I have yet to find anything that would leave me ashen.

His kiss turned from teasing to demanding and I responded in kind, playing a dangerous game with lips and tongue and fangs. My hands tugged at his hair, demanding more, messing up the long blond locks I had taken great care to style earlier that night.

I licked his fangs, enjoying the shudder that went through him. His body bucked into mine, and even through all the layers of our clothing it was hard to miss Eric's readiness. I felt myself grow wet with anticipation, savouring his reaction.

His lips moved as he trailed kisses down my neck, sending hot pulses through my cool body, but even the thought of sating my sexual hunger wasn't enough of a reason for me to lower myself to the standards of a street doxy.

"Eric, I won't have sex in an alley," I said, trying to muster up the appropriate level of sternness, yet even to me the denial sounded hollow.

My body betrayed me as it so often did with him. I couldn't seem to stop my hands from massaging the back of his neck, encouraging his current activity. It wasn't that we hadn't before, on more than one occasion, but the snow—even for a vampire the chill would be uncomfortable.

He nipped my neck before moving his head away. I couldn't help the moan escaping my lips as his fangs cut my skin in the process. The pain was exquisite when it shot through my body, leaving behind a raging need for more. More pleasure, and more pain...blood, sex, everything I knew he had to offer. His tongue came back to lap at the pooling blood, lips went around the small wound, pulling just enough for me to see stars under my eyelids.

"Then let us go somewhere more civilised," he said with mock seriousness as he lifted me into his arms. I squealed in delight while we sped through the darkened streets, his good mood finally winning over my sour one.

The house we stayed at was almost civilised for this part of the world. It wasn't like we had a lot of options. We needed a residence with a secure place to sleep, and this one was perfect.

It belonged to Admiral Gregory Kushilev, who believed Eric to be his distantly related nephew from England. Of course Eric did glamour him into such knowledge, as well as making sure he was to spend his winters in the country as opposed to coming to St Petersburg for the season. His wife was not happy about missing the social season, but then nobody ever asked her. Women, human women, were to obey and all the rest of those dreary things that you promise during a marriage ceremony I gladly left behind in my old life. Russian people seemed to take these vows particularly seriously.

We'd been staying here for several seasons, and the bedroom that we used had a special panel in the wall leading to another room, something only we knew.

"_Dobri vecher, Barin,_" I heard Donsov say as he opened the front door, anticipating our entrance as always.

"It has been," Eric said, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. Donsov did a little dance back as Eric expertly manoeuvred me inside.

I tried to feel embarrassed over the indignity of the situation, came up with none, so settled for a frown, since it wouldn't look good in front of the help if I didn't at least _look_ displeased by the manhandling. I couldn't hide the knowledge that I was enjoying myself from Eric.

"Will you require anything before I retire?" Donsov asked without a hint of emotion escaping his façade.

I valued good help, and since we paid the staff here while in residence, they were all fiercely loyal.

The emancipation had left many of the lower class struggling. Freedom has a bitter taste when one isn't given the means to enjoy it. The reform, while giving them rights, had left them more vulnerable to the whims of the upper class. The staff at Admiral Kushilev's townhouse did not suffer along with the majority of the populace.

"I believe Pamela would enjoy a bath in a couple of hours," Eric told him, a leer evident on his face and masculine pride coursing through his voice. I would have blushed at the not so subtle subtext, but I was not the modest young miss that my face would have you believe.

I'd been turned at the sweet age of nineteen, and had been with Eric for over a decade. I was never overly modest, even during my human life, and any left over naïveté was quickly gone under Eric's tutelage.

"Of course. _Barinya,_ would you like Natasha to put it in your room or in _Barin's_?"

If the butler (that would be the equivalent of his position in the household in England) had a particular opinion on my wanting to bath at six in the morning, he remained silent on the matter. The vagaries of masters were not something questioned by servants that were paid well.

"My room will be fine, Donsov," I said to him before focusing back on Eric. "Now, I believe Pam would enjoy it if you would stop manhandling her."

"If you insist," he told me with a mocking twist to his lips.

Oh, I didn't like the sound of that at all.

He didn't put me down downstairs like I'd hoped, but threw me on the bed the minute he walked into his room. I fell in a graceful heap of dress, petticoats, and fur, fractionally missing the large wooden posts that held up the canopy.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," I confessed sourly. My hands flew to my hair in a futile attempt to straighten it; the run, and now landing were hell on a girl's coiffure.

"And here I though you wanted to be home?" He was already out of his coat, and his dexterous, long fingers were tugging at his cravat. Sensuous movements, yet he wasn't ever aware of his own allure at such times. Even though I knew his sexuality to be a finely honed weapon, it was the times when he would use it without underlying designs in mind that it is most potent.

I watched, captivated by the naked desire on his face for me, and the show he so graciously provided. The light from the fireplace cast its radiance on him, making normally white skin glow softly with a golden undertone that had been lost during the transformation centuries before I had been born.

Now that we were in private, I loosened the rigid control I'd learned to hold over my vampire instincts. My fangs descended, paying silent homage to Eric's more than adequate charms. He looked devastatingly handsome, and I was grateful all over again that he'd chosen me for his child.

"Would you like some help with that?" I questioned him, my voice languid with promises.

I too was learning the arts of seduction, he was the finest teacher.

I have learned more about pleasure from Eric than any being has a right to; he is an expert after centuries of practice. I have learned that the pleasures he taught me made my feedings all the more flavoursome. The flavour rich, sweet, satisfying in a way only a vampire could appreciate.

Tendrils of arousal laced with need blossomed inside my body. A need that was ever present, sometimes burning as brightly as the sun, and other times simmering just under the surface, waiting, watching.

Eric winked at me as his fingers pausing on the first button of his vest, and I was there in a human heartbeat, divesting him of it. His shirt followed next as it slid gracefully from his muscled arms. I trailed my fingers over the naked skin, revealing in the barely sheathed strength under my fingertips, savouring the scent of his arousal as I left red marks on the perfect white of his skin.

Even back then I held no illusions that our intimate relationship was based on love. Yes, we shared a kind of love, but not in this.

Lust.

Now that was a powerful emotion I prescribe to. Savour and revere. And when that fades, as these things so often do, we have our friendship. We always found new things to lust after and enjoy, together or apart.

Yet that day would be long in coming, we had a while before our fascination with the other would lessen, a while yet for us to need space from each other.

A while before I'd need to walk the path of a solitary vampire.

His body was beautifully sculpted, and I enjoyed the process of undressing him. There is something completely sinful and illicit in undressing a man like Eric while you are still wearing all your clothes. He stood, patience personified as he let me take my time, but I could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, passion brewing behind the calm façade.

"You are still dressed." The timber of his voice slid through me, more delicious than a physical caress.

I nipped at his chest playfully, scrapping my fangs over his white skin. Eric threw his head back with a pleasurable groan as they left a trail of blood behind. My tongue worked soothingly over already healed skin as I licked off his blood, the fresh infusion only heightening own frenzy, strengthening the already strong bond between us.

"I believe you mentioned my needing to visit the modiste," I inquired with a raised eyebrow as I met his eyes. They glinted like obsidian gems in the firelight, not a speck of his usual cool blue present anymore.

His head bent down to mine, our lips inches apart, he said, "So I did." Then he closed the distance, and the contact was exquisite in its power. I heard the rip of fabric while we kissed, and within moments I was naked, pressed against him as he proceeded to move us towards the bed. His large hands held me to his body. I trembled in his arms, aware of the power and strength surrounding me.

"Eric, I said dress, not coat," I whispered between kisses.

"That one was getting old," he said into my neck before licking the skin, leaving a lover's bite behind.

It was last season, true, but fur coats were not something you changed every year. Not even every other year.

Still. I wasn't about to argue with him then, given that his lips found my earlobe. He sucked, biting down on the delicate skin, I moaned. His hands travelled down my body, and I felt my knees get weak as he started to explore me with his long fingers. I let myself enjoy the sensations before wrapping my hand around him.

I had discovered (to my delight) that Eric was not an average-sized man in any respect. He knew how to use his body to his advantage. His fingers slid over my nub, drawing a delicate pattern around it, pulling, circling, pinching. I whimpered as my body grew taut under his ministrations, my heightened vampire sense making me even more susceptible to his charms. He growled as my body rushed into the first orgasm, my fingernails leaving bloody trails when pleasure rippled through me, blooming like the first flower of spring: joyous, and very much welcome after a long drought.

I went down on my knees in front of him, legs too shaky to hold me. He let me go. My tongue darted out to lick his tip. The pale red liquid of anticipation tasted wonderful, and I swirled the taste in my mouth, savouring it, him.

I had yet to get bored of this. He was magnificent, and I had the pleasure of enjoying him night after night. With my heightened sexual cravings and vampire stamina, I even wore him out on occasion.

I tightened my lips around him, and heard him growl. He pulled on my hair, pushing himself further into my mouth. I didn't need to breathe, and I had learned how to accommodate all of him. He did enjoy that very much.

I watched his face while I worked him. Eric always looked at me. His eyes burning into mine while I had him in my mouth was one of the most sensual experiences; I enjoyed watching ecstasy built in him as I pleasured him.

I knew the moment he was close. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get him over the edge. I didn't do it. I stopped.

"Pamela. What are you doing?" He practically growled out the question.

Moving back quickly, I climbed on the bed. He stood there, naked and completely, gloriously aroused, shaking with being so close to the edge. I admired all of him. My maker was delicious. I licked my lips, anticipating tasting him again, feeling him as he stretched me, moving in me with a speed and strength only a vampire could.

"I want you to watch me," I said as my hands moved down my body, exploring the curve of my breast, circling around the budding nipple, then trailing down the smooth skin of my stomach.

Down. Further down to the hollow between my thighs. My skin was taut with anticipation, tight with need. I moaned as I reached my goal: my already over-sensitive centre, deliciously tender after the recent pleasure, moist and ready for him.

Eric licked his lips as he watched me shudder, his eyes were following my progress though he stayed still. I felt the stirrings of amusement through our bond, but it was washed away by lust and hunger. My hands moved onto my inner thighs, and I spread my legs slowly in front of him. Leaving myself open, vulnerable in a way that spoke of trust as nothing can.

"Bite me."

He did.

He bit my clit just before I felt him entering me. The pleasure from a bite like that could only be described as transcendent; no human could possibly survive it, as it would be too much for them. I felt him growl above me as he pounded into me, each thrust bringing him flush against me, making me shudder in mindless pleasure. Faster, he was pounding into me with all the speed a vampire has, and then he faltered, roaring above me as I felt his seed fill me just as my inner walls clenched around him yet again.

I let him lie on me while he recovered, enjoying the solid weight of him. My fingers traced slow patterns on his back, which was still slick with blood from the marks that had already healed. I was looking forward to licking him clean later.

"We have the king's party tomorrow night," I said, as I mentally went through my wardrobe for the right outfit to impress Wladimir, the ruler of the vampires in St Petersburg.

Each major town in Europe has one; the system set up centuries ago. Our way of life mayhap has more violence and blood than that of humans, and some would call it animalistic, yet it is not so. The governance of my world is much more rigorous and structured than that of humans. Our rulers are ruthless and cunning. They have to be, in order to control the populace.

Wladimir was a particular favourite of mine, since unlike most rulers, he didn't have his head stuck…well, you get the idea. He reminded me of Eric, though a darker version of him in every respect. I liked that about him.

"Yes. Which means our meal will have to be a quick one." Eric rolled off me then, sprawling out on the extra-large bed we had put in this room for him when we moved in. "It also means we'll have to be on good behaviour all night. I hate politics."

Something I've come to understand over the years is that our views on the matter are completely different.

Even as a child I had enjoyed watching the flows and undercurrents in social gatherings. I had learned from a very young age how to use such things to my advantage, and now, as a vampire, the game had higher stakes.

In some cases literally.

Eric's somewhat rash temperament wasn't really meant for such things, although he was getting better with me at his side to temper him. He would make a powerful monarch if he learnt to control himself better; with me at his side…the possibilities were limitless. Yet, I knew he had no taste for power.

"Maybe we can call on the twins. I don't remember receiving any interesting invitations for tomorrow night. Besides, we wake up earlier than most social events start, I'm sure they'll be at home around six." I rolled over, resting my head on my arm as I looked at him.

His eyes were closed, he was on his stomach and the trails of blood woke my hunger. I saw the beginnings of a smile curve his lips at the mention of the Martunov sisters. They were a lovely find, and quite adventurous. I had always appreciated women, but sharing a lovely meal like that with Eric always made dinner more pleasurable.

His fingers traced down my thigh with renewed determination I could not have mistaken. "I enjoy watching the three of you together."

I enjoyed him watching me in general, something I indulged in for the remained of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

_I hope you are enjoying the journey so far._

_Thank you to my beta, csad, for getting this baby into shape and MellyKen for the pre-read. Love you guys! _

_Please R & R, I always enjoy hearing your thoughts. _

_xxx_

_Disclaimer: I do not own SVM._

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Her skin was as delicate as the snow falling outside the window, and I relished the feeling of her smooth body pressed against mine as I kissed her sweet lips. I had not exaggerated in my estimate; the twins really were a wonderful find. Elizaveta moaned into our kiss as I let my hands wander down her body. Soft, tender skin, so fragile to someone with my strength, was under my fingertips as my hand caressed her well-formed breast. I'd come to really enjoy women, their passion, their responses to me; their blood was so much more satisfying when it had pleasure running through it.

I trailed my lips over her neck, the beating pulse under her skin called to the hunger in me, throbbing beat, and I felt my fangs slide out as I licked the tender spot.

My eyes found Eric's as I worked my way down her body. The sisters didn't disappoint us tonight, inviting us into their home and upstairs to their shared bedroom. Their parents lived in another wing of the house, so little noise traveled. Eric was almost mirroring my movements. Or should I say I was mirroring his, since he was the one who introduced me to the ways and delights of a woman's body. I watched as he lapped leisurely at her breasts, savoring the trickles of blood coming out from two delicate puncture wounds.

My own arousal heightened when I saw the glint in his eyes. The promise of rough sex after we'd satisfied our nightly hunger was in them, and I turned my attention to the delicacy before me with renewed vigor.

Elizaveta screamed when she came on my tongue. I licked away her pleasure, droplet after droplet hitting my tongue in a rich bouquet of flavor. Her sister, Ekaterina, wasn't far behind as Eric brought her to completion, and I knew without needing to look that he would bite her soon. I looked anyway, enjoying the feelings coursing between us as we both pierced the tender skin, simultaneously, and the first drops of their blood flowed into us. Sweet heaven…I sucked greedily. We could only make a good meal of them once a month, but we came back here more often than that. Their flavour was too rich, too gratifying to be missed, and we made a point of having them for dessert as often as their bodies would allow us.

My fingers played her like a maestro conducting a musicale, and her responses were electrifying and maddeningly intoxicating. My vision hazed in red as I lapped at the punctures, her heart slowed down to the point where I should stop, but I couldn't. Not yet, wanting, needing just that little bit more. One more drop of the exquisite blood. One more…

"Enough, Pamela." Eric's voice broke me out of my hunger-induced daze.

I whimpered as I let her go, sealing the marks before I took my fingers out of her. I licked them too, knowing that I took too much and that it would be a while before I'd get another taste.

"You are incorrigible, my child," Eric said his voice rough and low near my ear. I leaned back into him, the feel of him against my back, ready and waiting, both of us shuddering in anticipation. God, I wanted him in me now.

"You are right, but that is how you like it," I whispered back to him, my hands going behind me as I squeezed his butt, pulling him closer to me. "I want you, now!"

He threw me onto the bed between the dazed girls and with one thrust filled me to the brink. Pain and pleasure, both crashed through me with such a force that I was reeling, screaming. He was so large that when he did that I was almost positive something inside me gave way just to accommodate his large size without any foreplay; I loved it. The extra slice of pain only added to the games we played.

"More…" I breathed, and he obliged me, the mutual desire and lust mingling into a tornado as he thrust into me, and I moved up to him in a less than gentle rhythm. The fall over the edge into oblivion was sweeter than any blood.

~~V~~

"Eric, Pam, welcome. It's always a pleasure to have you at our gatherings," King Wladimir greeted us in the large reception room, his eyes lingered on me.

The king wasn't a big man; of course he was still taller than me. With his onyx hair and glacial eyes he looked exotic, predatory. The commanding air of arrogance about him made him, unmistakably, someone you didn't want to slight. Tonight he was wearing unrelieved black. The only other colour was the blood red cravat tied at his throat with a sapphire pin sparkling in its depths. The colour of the stone, a deeper hue than his eyes, nevertheless accentuated their otherness. Wladimir knew how to be intimidating without resorting to over the top gaudiness. I liked that about him.

"Your majesty," Eric said, making an elegant bow.

Eric was wearing a cobalt blue coat with matching waistcoat that was embroidered with an ice-blue coloured design. I had tied his white neck cloth in an intricate pattern any valet would have been proud of. His breeches were tight, showing off well-sculpted thighs, which they hugged to perfection; not to mention the other areas that they displayed rather adequately. The Hessians gleaming in polished perfection completed the outfit. While back home it would have been considered unorthodox to wear boots to an evening gathering such as this one, here, in the starts of winter, it was the norm. I rather preferred Eric in boots, as they made him look manlier. Not that Eric could possibly look anything but manly. Watching the play of muscles under the cloth as he moved was a favourite past time I still indulged on regular occasions.

I performed a deep curtsy, acknowledging Wladamir's superior rank. "It is a pleasure," I said politely. I was one of the youngest vampires present, and I knew my place. King Wladimir was the oldest I'd met, being a good couple of centuries Eric's elder. And while during more private audiences there weren't any barriers, here, under the scrutiny of so many of our peers, I played my part.

"Always charming to see you, Pamela. You are looking simply ravishing tonight." His eyes undressed me. I took pride in that look instead of being offended by it. Among our kind, sexual interest was considered a compliment, something the débutantes and their mamas back home would have fainted over, I am sure. It was more than mere passing interest with us, and I got the impression that Wladimir would enjoy a more private meeting later should I be inclined to take up the invitation blazing in his eyes.

My dress shimmered in the candle light giving, the warm glow making the icy blue almost warm. The style was simpler than most of the current fashions with only a small amount of embroidery around the neckline. I'd never enjoyed the extra frills many ladies insisted on adding to their gowns. The neckline was cut low enough to show off my ample assets to their best advantage. The corset was tightened to the point that I may not have been able to breathe were I to need air, and so my waist was minuscule. The layered velvet skirt flowed out from my waist in yards of fabric that swivelled in a flowing waterfall with my every movement.

My hair was unfashionably dishabille, half down around my shoulders. Natasha took her time making sure each curl was artfully placed, a perfect artwork. I enjoyed shocking the world with my outrageous fashion sense, but I enjoyed it more when I was coveted from afar. That happened often enough to keep me more than satisfied.

"Thank you, your Majesty. I daresay you are looking quiet handsome yourself tonight." My smile held a promise, an acceptance of his offer, which he didn't miss. I shivered in anticipation, our private games were rougher than what Eric and I ever played. It never failed to baffle me why men thought naïveté was an attractive trait in a woman, I used that weakness to my advantage, though in the case of the vampire in front of me that woman's trick wouldn't gain me any favours. "May I congratulate you on the party? It seems to be a resounding success."

He chuckled before turning to my maker. "Eric, you have done well with this one. She is lethal little treat," Wladimir told him with good humour and a note of pride. He did love to be complimented.

I felt Eric's amusement mirror my own. "Yes, that she is. I'm quite proud of Pamela." The king had absolutely no idea about how right he was in his assessment. While I was a deadly opponent on the social arena, Eric had not neglected other aspects of my education. The reason why we enjoyed our winter here was the longer amount of training time they afforded. He'd been teaching me how to fight, and while my hand to hand combat skills were still not on par with his, I was getting quite proficient with a sword. But then this king had no interest in my battle skills, his interest lay in other areas of my education. I was getting quiet proficient in those as well.

"I hope you will save me a dance later, my dear." My stomach tightened in anticipation of the promises in his eyes.

"Yes, of course, your majesty," I acknowledged his request, and watched him saunter away to greet more of his guests. My mind turned over the idea of staying at the mansion for the day and enjoying the darker kind of amusements. I knew Eric wouldn't mind, he'd stay here as well, there were plenty of other who would keep him company while I indulged.

I looked up to catch a smug look on Eric's face. "Are you going to be insufferable over this?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled as he led me over to some of our acquaintances. "You are turning out to be marvellous, so I have a reason to be, yes?"

I didn't bother to reply. I had yet to find a topic which Eric could plausibly be taunted with, but I was comfortable in the knowledge that I had centuries yet to explore the possibilities.

We danced, and talked, and danced some more. The night wasn't much different to any other gathering at the royal mansion. I say mansion, because that is what it was. It was a large mansion, but nowhere near as grand as the Winter Palace, the primary residence of Alexander II, current Emperor of Russia. An overly amorous Emperor who was known for his penchant of sweet blondes, he even tried a play for me a few years back and I had to glamor him. I did taste him once, just so I could see if royal blood really did taste different. I must admit that it was better than I thought it would be, but nothing I missed, or wanted to repeat again. He really was a very unimaginative lover.

I was enjoying a particularly lively waltz with Fedor, one of the more modern vampires in my view, since he actually bothered to learn the dance steps that were _au courant._ Some of the vampires were very much stuck in the dark ages making it hard to find good dancing partners. A few still wore those hideous wigs from the last century. The fashionable side of me shuddered in horror at the mere thought of having my hair powdered.

"My dear, why do you keep denying me? One of these nights you will come to realize that we could enjoy ourselves immensely with a lovely young serf girl. It would be an unforgettable experience," he whispered-what I had to assume was his idea of seductively-in my ear as we executed a particularly difficult turn.

Fedor was a brute. He didn't know subtlety if it bit him in the neck. He was tall, almost as tall as Eric, and broader in the chest. His facial features were harsh and angular, masculine, but there was something missing to them. Maybe it was the lack of intellect that reflected there, or that he was too brutal even for my tastes, whatever the reason I had no interest of taking him up on his offer, now or ever.

"Now I know what my most boring evening would involve." I didn't bother to veil the sarcasm in my words, or hide disgust from my expression. I felt him stiffen under my hands, but we were dancing and at least he didn't miss a step. I heard the unmistakable sound of his fangs coming down.

"You are a cold-hearted bitch." A few heads turned our way, since his voice was harsher and louder than was needed. Then again we were at a vampire gathering, all of our hearing was acute enough that any conversation in this room was public.

The smile on my face turned cold. "You have just found that out? Congratulations, Fedor, I've been trying to impress that fact on you for years."

There was no coldness in his face, yet I felt a shiver run up my spine none the less. It was the cruelness there that had me almost visibly shuddering. "I will enjoy breaking a free spirits such as yours."

Not for the first time I wondered why I continue to subject myself to his company. Was one extra dance really worth all this trouble?

Fedor was known for his cruelty. All vampires enjoyed some form of it, though most hid it better. I, myself, felt the tug. Lately, since we'd started coming to stay in St Petersburg for the winter I had began to explore that side of me as well. Vampires drank blood; it was a natural progression for me to want to learn about pain. After all, we inflicted it in some way or another. It was part of us, part of the hunter's instinct to want to cause it, and part of our own nature to want to feel it too. I had a certain inkling that with Fedor, I would not enjoy it.

"You will never get the chance," I told him before looking over his shoulder in an effort to keep my temper in check. I was very glad that conversation between us halted for the remained of the set. As it was, I was barely controlling my fangs. The nerve of the vampire. Really? Did he think I found myself in a cemetery?

He led me back to Eric before bowing, and quickly making his escape. I briefly wondered if he would take my comments to heart and remain gone, preferably forever. I doubted it. Fedor had a distinctly short memory for a vampire, and I knew for a fact that I would be having the same conversation with him again in a few weeks' time.

Maybe he just didn't understand the word "no", though I doubted it. He understood it well enough; he _enjoyed _when his victims said it. I was markedly glad that Eric was my maker; he would never allow anything to happen to me at the hands of such a brute.

The relief when the dance finished was palpable.

"…she caught one of our own a few nights ago, you remember Klava? She came to me frightened and quite damaged, saying that this woman, a maenad was what she had called herself, wanted tribute from me. Can you imagine? A tribute from a vampire?" I heard the end of what the king was telling Eric.

"Are you saying this creature is actually a maenad? The one from the Greek mythology?" Eric questioned. The part of me that was his was amused. I had to admit that I was not a little sceptical myself, but I kept my mouth shut and moved in closer to listen.

The king gave Eric a serious look. "They may be part of mythology, but so are we." He had a point. "I do not believe she is one such as described in the myths, but Kostas tells me he has heard of maenads that still walk this earth. It may be we have a genuine article, though I do wonder why it would insist on a tribute. Not that I would actually pay one." Typical arrogant vampire. Of course I generally believed in our race being superior to others, but the idea that this creature was confident enough to request tribute made me wonder if there was something she knew that we did not.

"Of course. Vampires do not pay tributes," Eric said smoothly. This was the reason why we, vampires, went to war with the fairies. Or so I'd heard. Some sort of tribute or land dispute that cost the fairies a lot more than us. After all, it is easier to replace our numbers than theirs. We are such bloodthirsty things when young, I knew; I was still very much that way myself and had been vampire for over a decade.

I was about to ask more about this maenad when panic filled me. My body shook with the force of it, every fibre in me screaming at me to run. It wasn't mine. I looked at Eric. His face had gone white and blank as he focused on something across the room. My eyes followed to where he was looking, and I saw who he was staring at.

The vampire wasn't very tall, with dark, ruffled hair. He wasn't dressed for the evening, wearing a pair of old trousers and muddied boots. His coat was a glaring purple colour, and he didn't have a cravat. All of that made him stand out in the crowd of velvet, silk, and jewels, but I did not think it was his lack of proper clothes that held my sire's interest. Like Eric, it was his facial features that arrested my attention. Strong, heavy nose, large, dark eyes, and pitch black eyebrows put together in a face that screamed Mediterranean origin. A face you would more likely see on the side of an ancient Roman coin than in the drawings rooms of current St Petersburg.

The vampire was staring at Eric with a hungry gleam in his eyes, and I felt my maker grow dead inside. It wasn't that our connection was cut off, no, I felt him in me, but the place that was usually filled up with his feelings had gone cold. Like he'd locked himself away so I wouldn't feel him. I felt panic grow, all of my own this time, as the realization sunk into my brain that my maker had deliberately cut himself away from me. Why? I didn't understand what could possibly make him do that. How he could just cut himself off like that. The emptiness almost a physical weight in my chest, it hurt. I was empty, he wasn't there.

And then everything came together, and I fought hard not to show any reaction on my face. Eric had told me little about his maker, save what he looked like, and that he had been a harsh master for too many a century. It wasn't me that he was afraid that would feel him. It was him. A dawning realization followed by revulsion for the unknown vampire. The idea of being afraid of one's maker was as foreign to me as seeing the sunset after a decade of night. Impossible. And through it all the revelations my body rebelled at the acute emptiness inside.

The man strode across the dance floor with complete disregard for the couples dancing on it and I watched his advancement with growing dread for my immediate future. My feet felt heavy for the first time in years, I couldn't move, didn't know what to do. The uncertainty that I was feeling was unpleasant in more ways than one. I'd never felt this unsure since I'd been turned, and yet, I'd never felt such a threat to me either though as yet, there wasn't one, not really. Something told me I was not going to like the ending of tonight. I was right in that regard, but at the time I just didn't comprehend how much of the truth I would not like.

He came to stand in front of our group. I noticed Wladimir didn't look at all surprised at seeing him here, or at seeing him in such a state. He must have known he was here, unsurprising since every new vampire had to check in with him at some point. How long? How long had he been in the city and we hadn't known?

"Appius, I had hoped you would clean up before attending," Wladimir said with mild reproach.

The sharp prick of my fangs against my lip, piercing the skin I tasted blood, it was the only thing that kept me from saying something regrettable. Appius Livius Ocella was standing in front of me. Eric's maker in the flesh, if not life, for I couldn't really truly call what we were alive, merely undead. He nodded to Wladimir in greeting; not as deeply as Eric had before, and that made me wonder just how old he was, and if the king was older.

"I didn't see the need, since I won't be staying long, Wladimir. You know I detest this sort of thing," he said with a twist to his hard mouth. He may have been speaking to the king, but his eyes had been straying to Eric. I felt bile rise up my throat. As a vampire I had yet to vomit, but the feeling was not something easily forgotten from my childhood. I didn't relish such strong reminders of it now.

"Well, well, if it isn't my child in the flesh. Eric. It has been too long." His eyes roved over Eric possessively, and I shivered, inside, at the unmistakable insinuation in each word he said. Though the sexual context was clear even for the most thick-headed human to pick up, it was the malicious glint in Appius' eyes that drove me into fear.

Then his attention moved to me.

He stood there, surveying me with cool aloofness. If it wasn't for the fact that I didn't want his attention I might have been offended by his obvious lack of sexual interest in me. As it was, my mind rejoiced in the fact that I was not desirable to him. All my survival instincts screamed that I would not survive through that encounter.

"I see you've gone and made yourself a child again, and a woman at that. How interesting," he finally said to Eric. The clear amusement at the notion of a female vampire, or maybe that Eric would make such a one was there-in his eyes, his words, all of him.

Eric's face was a cool, unemotional mask that told me little of his inner feelings. I felt a brief stir of emotion, but it was gone so quickly I didn't get a chance to identify if it was good or bad. I was left at sea for the first time since he had turned me. It was a feeling I found no fondness for, and my own resentment for the reason behind it turned to budding hatred. Whatever it was that Appius Livius Ocella had done to my maker, I would one day find a way to repay him in kind. That was a dangerous though, but I held onto it with all my might as I put on a show of humility (as much as I could muster) and subservience (something I didn't do well, unless under duress, like now).

"Pamela, I'd like to introduce you to Appius Livius Ocella," Eric said in a cool voice. "Appius, this is my child, Miss Ravenscroft."

Something in his manner told me that a simple nod would not be sufficient. I would have ignored him if I could. What I did do was a perfectly executed curtsy. We were at a ball, and I'd be damned if anyone would see me for anything less than I was. I may be a vampire now, but I saw that as a rise of station from the daughter of the Earl of Rochford.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I'm certain we will be fast friends," he said in uninflected tones. A cold shiver raced up my spine, somewhat a rare occurrence for the undead. There was no mistaking it for anything benign.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you." My words dripped insincere honey, and the humour in his dark eyes told me he felt the barbs under the sugar.

"Pam." That was all Eric said. All he needed to say. I felt chastised just by him calling my name. I shouldn't have felt so protective of him, and yet the idea that someone else had a bigger, stronger claim on him made me bristle.

I was still glaring up at Eric when I felt someone grab my hand. "Come, my dear, I believe it's time I claimed my dance," Wladimir said as he started to guide me onto the dance floor. Caught between the jackal and a wall, I followed, silently fuming.

Wladimir danced beautifully, and I enjoyed having a partner who was almost as fluid on the dance floor as Eric. Fedor was a wonderful dancer when he behaved, it was probably the reason I kept breaking my promise to myself and dancing with him again, and again, but this was different. Wladimir didn't want to dominate me in the same way. I felt the strength in his arms around me, the power and assurance of each movement, yet I did not feel threatened by it, it left me exhilarated. I was still licking my wounds when Wladimir's voice crashed into my thoughts.

"You need to learn to pitch your battles, Pamela. His claim on Eric is too strong even for me to step between them," he whispered. I knew for a fact that nobody else could have possibly heard his words. I barely heard them and I was the closest vampire.

My eyes found his and I hated what I saw there. Understanding, and pity. I hated seeing it there, hated that it comforted me, and most of all hated that I was weak.

"Am I that obvious?" My eyes wandered back to Eric standing next to his maker in a way that implied an intimacy I didn't want to acknowledge. They were talking. Eric wasn't smiling. Even with our bond deadened by him I could still sense the tension pouring off of him and the strain in his body as he listened with his head bent down in a show of deference I had yet to witness from him.

"No. You are very controlled for someone so young. If I hadn't been standing right there I may have missed it altogether." It didn't take away the sting or my vulnerability. "You cannot let him see you like this, Pam. You are strong, and fierce, but you really do need to learn when to step back. Your life may very well depend on it." The idea that someone could possibly force Eric to do anything was so foreign it did not register.

"You did not tell us he was here." I wasn't being cautious, and I was lucky he didn't take any true offense to my words and tone. He may have been a friend, but he was also a sovereign.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Am I your messenger boy?" While he didn't look angry, I knew I'd overstepped.

"Please forgive me, your majesty. I am a little overwhelmed." I lowered my eyes, trying to look appropriately chastised. Again. No, tonight was definitely not a night I would remember fondly.

He chuckled. "You do not do humble well, but I accept the apology. I did not put two and two together until tonight. If I had known that Appius was Eric's maker I would have sent a message." I searched his face, knowing I wouldn't see anything there, but hoping to just the same. He didn't try to hide behind a mask this time around, a rare occurrence, and what I found there was surprising. Another shock for one night and my dead heart might start beating again. "You have become very dear friends to me and mine. I enjoy having your company in my kingdom." And occasionally in your bed, no doubt. But it wasn't something he needed to add, we were both aware of our indulgences.

"Thank you, your majesty."

He smiled at me benevolently, like an adult humouring a child. "Now. Why don't we enjoy the rest of the evening? I realize that Gregory isn't here to cheer you up, but may I offer my humble services?"

"He isn't?" Of course, I had already known that. Gregory was always near the king at social functions. His absence tonight has been noted by more than just my eyes, yet I had wanted to find out more, and playing ignorant usually made sure I did.

His mouth tightened. "I needed him to take scout out the problem that has wandered into my territory."

The maenad.

Gregory was the best vampire for the job. He was Wladimir's second-in-command. A giant wall of lethal muscles and brute strength combined with a quick brain made him was a deadly combination. It was his less than civilized side I happened to enjoy in more private circumstances. We shared a common interest in causing pain. He has been teaching me things that Eric refused. Between him and Wladimir my education in that area has developed exponentially. Of course, now Eric's reluctance to delve into our darker nature made more sense.

If Wladimir had sent Gregory after this maenad, then he was more worried than he'd admitted earlier.

"In that case I look forward to seeing him tomorrow at the palace, and hearing all about this mythical creature," I told him honestly.

"Yes. He will undoubtedly be there, with plenty of tales to tell us," Wladimir acknowledged, Gregory just loved telling tales, especially ones about himself. They were always exaggerated, and some completely untrue, but never boring.

Most of us would be at the palace of course. Though the Emperor did not implied, but every year he held the masquerade on the eve of a pagan holiday. All Hallow's Eve was not something celebrated in Russia, they were Christian here. I wondered if it was Wladimir's doing, a night for us to have the opportunity to be more ourselves in mixed company was definitely enjoyable, especially on one of the few holidays that was celebrated by our kind.

I raised an eyebrow at the king. "I'm aiming for emperor's blood again." And even I was shocked at my own declaration.

Wladimir threw his head back as he laughed, garnering the attention of crowd around us. It was not often that he laughed so carefree in public. I had always enjoyed being able to make him laugh. "Pamela, I'll give you that diamond necklace you've had your eye on if you do get to dine on him. His mistress keeps a closer eye on him after the last time."

My mouth turned into a sensual smile that has left many a man weak kneed. "I've no doubt she does, but tomorrow he will be mine." Even if I had to suffer through unimaginative sex for one evening. Glamoring him into believing we had sex wouldn't be such a bad idea, the only problem with it was that I'd lose the bet. Unfortunately, Wladimir would be able to smell our lack of coupling.

The dance had finished, and conveniently enough we were left standing right next to Eric and his maker. I steeled myself for more torture in my grand-sire's company while putting on a smile that resembled something of a sneer. Or a smirk. I cared not which one. It froze in place as I heard Eric's next words.

"Pamela, you may return home whenever you please, I will be spending the night somewhere else tonight. I'll be by tomorrow eve to get ready for the masquerade. Do not follow me." His voice was neutral to match the blank expression on his face. I couldn't move. His words washed through me, the power of a maker's command taking hold on my whole being. He'd commanded me in front of everyone, something unprecedented, totally unasked for, and completely humiliating. Appius' smile was scornful, that last part had been his idea, or maybe even a command.

They didn't linger after that. I was forced to watch my maker leave with a sense of growing dread. None of his actions had indicated he was anything other than content with it all, but I knew. I knew that he hadn't been. I knew what it cost him to say what he had, to not fight, to surrender his will. Eric the Northman did not bow to anyone lightly.

"Come, Pamela, the night is young and there is plenty of fun to be had yet." Wladimir's voice broke into my shock. I turned towards him, the disjointed movement accentuating my dazed condition. His eyes held warmth in them, though the rest of his face didn't betray it. It would do no one any good if he appeared weak. "Shall I have the servants prepare downstairs for you?"

"Gregory…" I started, but he was not here. Gregory and I had been regular patrons of Wladimir's dungeons. He had been teaching me things. Things that Eric had chosen not to practice. Now I knew why. I probed the bond between us, trying to gauge my maker's feeling and location. Half hoping I'd be able to feel what was going on with him, though dreading it at the same time. Nothing. The absolute nothingness there was frightening.

"Yes," I said, suddenly needing a distraction. Knowing exactly what that distraction will be.

Wladimir gave me a knowing look before calling over one of the servants and whispering instructions to him. He turned to me, his charming mask in place and offered me a hand. "You wish is my command," he said with a glint in those all knowing eyes. A glint that suddenly made me shiver with anticipation.

I took it, accepting the consequences of my decision along with it

We circled through the crowd, stopping every now and then to talk to someone. Wladimir was a good host, and I played the part of companion well. The whole time I felt someone watching me. My back tingled with awareness. It had been there since the time Eric had left. I knew the cause, choosing to ignore it and him, but now letting the knowledge seep into my brain. I didn't look his way, but I didn't need to. He'd know I felt him watching me, he'd know I had become more aware of it. He would have known that without saying a word I gave him silent permission.

It didn't take long. Wladimir was talking to a vampire named Monique, a recent immigrant from France; a pretty little brunette, who looked fragile and delicate enough, though I knew from the predatory look in those eyes she was anything but. A vampire over three centuries in age, she was lethal.

"Are you ready?" asked a cool baritone voice next to my ear. The echo of the words wrapped around me like an unseen caress.

"Yes," I breathed not turning around to face him. Feeling excitement build inside me, clinging to the feeling as though it was a lifeline.

He didn't say anything else, just a hand on small of my back was enough for me to let go of Wladimir's arm.

Wladimir half turned breaking off his conversation. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "You are retiring for the night?"

"You majesty," I said and bowed in answer. He nodded, eyes lingering on my companion, and went back to talking.


	3. Chapter 3

_So, I'd just like to say that yes, I am still alive and kicking. :)_

_Haven't been writing much due to a lot of things happening in RL. I am trying to get back into the swing of writing, but there is the slight issues of limited time. For those of you who are following my other stories: I am going to finish them! I'm trying to carve out some time to write now that things are settling down somewhat, but it hasn't been easy what with moving countries, trying to sort out my paperwork (since the only one in our little family of three who needs a visa is me), organizing transport and other mundane things like money. _

_I'm sorry for such a long delay. _

_Hope you enjoy this little chapter and I will try to update my other stories soon._

_xxx_

_mavrosal_

* * *

I followed the directions of the hand on me. It guided me smoothly, firmly towards the side door leading to Wladimir's private living quarters. I was one of the few who had been given the privilege of access to these.

When we walked into the dark room, it was only lit by a few candles, just enough light for me to see that it had indeed been readied for us. The bed hid behind red silk drapes that hung of the canopy, the white sheets a startling contrast where they peeked through the river of blood.

I stopped mid step as the hand on my back moved. It had been the only guide, the only contact I had with him this entire time. I was completely focused on the movements, all of my senses attuned to the fingers now caressing the open flesh of my shoulders with a gentle strength I knew could turn violent at any given moment. The fingers tightened on my shoulder, the pain a heady reminder of what was to coming. My fangs elongated as my instincts battled to take over me. I held still.

"Pamela, this is what you want?" The question slithered over my skin, taking hold of me. A command with every expectation of gaining the right answer.

"Yes," I whispered eagerly, my body trembling with desire as his hand moved to tug at my gown.

Lips pressed a kiss in the place where his hand had just been, replacing the pain with pleasure. A shiver ran up my spin in answer to it, as pleasure built in my body.

"Will you submit?" he asked me in a rich voice, the tone of which didn't betray a hint of his own feelings. He pulled on the strings, and I felt my gown loosen.

I wanted to move, to turn around, to look at him.

I didn't.

"I will."

Fangs slid into my flesh making me tremble as he sucked a little blood from the small wounds. "You will what?"

A breath came shuddering out of me as the vortex of desire caught me by surprise. "I will surrender." A breath, full of ragged words.

He licked the wounds, kissing his way to my ear. The gown was almost loose enough to fall off me. His breath cool on my wet flesh. "You will call me master tonight, yes?"

I nodded, unable to say a word.

"Pamela." A second hand on my waist squeezed me, the power and strength in it a clear warning. Submission was essential for this game to continue.

"Yes, master."

"Good girl," he whispered as he carefully divested me of the dress.

There are many ways of arousing someone. The art of undressing is but one. I was left shuddering as each piece of my clothing was removed with careful precision, deliberate caresses alternating between pain and pleasure. My body ached with desire, burnt with a cool heat. By the time I stood naked in the middle of the room; his careful scrutiny was heavy weight on my skin.

Patience. It was something I had little of, yet this game we played required it. I waited. Not moving, half afraid that at any given moment he would decide to stop. He held that power over me now. I'd given it to him.

When he came to stand in front of me at last, everything in me rejoiced. I took in his austere features, unmistakably masculine. Breathing, I finally took in his scent, letting it settle in me, surround me, speak to me: honey and pine, rich almost touchable.

The curve of his lips told me he knew what he had done to me, and I saw in his eyes that there was much more that would come. The breath I held left me in a rush, leaving behind trails of burning anticipation.

"Kneel," he commanded. I obeyed without hesitation, dropping onto the hard stone floor with such a force, had I been human I'd have bruised myself.

My head fell forward, hands folded on my knees. My whole body spoke of my submission to his will. I didn't chafe against the feeling; I welcomed it, needing the sense of belonging now more than ever.

He left me there, sitting in such a vulnerable, submissive position long enough that had I been human I'd have felt the discomfort of the cold stone under me and the strain of my muscles staying still. I didn't. I felt alert, more attuned to him with every passing minute. I felt his enjoyment like a sweet tasting fragrance on my tongue.

When he finally stepped close enough that his legs came into my view, I rejoiced, needing to taste him, needing to please him.

"You may begin," he told me in a smooth voice.

"Thank you, master," I whispered and with one trembling hand reached for the strings on his pants. Fingers eagerly flying to reveal the prize under the dark cloth, my whole body sang with the need to take him into my mouth.

I licked the tip of him when it sprang free from the prison of his clothes, completely unable to resist temptation any longer. My fingers pulled down his pants, nails scratching his skin in the process. A growl echoed around the room as my lips closed around him. Soft, cool skin, and yet so hard, so unbelievably masculine.

His finger threaded through my hair, and I was pushed to take in more, all of him. My hands squeezed on his thighs, the action pulling him even more into me.

He groaned as I started moving, pouring all of me into the process, enjoying the reactions from his body. He shuddered as he came closer to release, but before I could flick my tongue over his tip and take him in for the last time to capture the sweet liquid I knew was a breath away from spilling he pulled away.

Confused, I looked up. It was a mistake. The dangerous flash of anger in his eyes told me that.

A hand connected to my cheek, the sharpness of the sting penetrating my pleasure with a sweet ache. All of me sang as the pain turned the beating heat of desire in me into a furnace. My thighs squeezed, moisture making them glide as I shifted slightly to keep myself from falling.

"Not yet, my dove, you have not deserved that yet," he rasped.

I cowered. "I am sorry, master. How can I please you?"

His fingers on my chin lifted up my face so that he could look at me. His lips curved into a cruel line at the flash of defiance in my eyes.

"Are you sure you still want to?" he asked, stormy clouds in his eyes. Yes, we both needed more.

I couldn't speak, but whispered, "Yes, master."

I watched his muscles ripple where the shirt had come undone, revealing a smooth chest, only a scattering of black hair marring its perfection.

With one swift pull I was forced to stand. He moved me to the wall where the whipping cross begged for attention. If I had a heart it would have skipped a beat. This was what we both wanted; what I needed, what he desired from me as well.

My face stung from the impact as he propelled me straight into the wood. His body flush against my own, I felt him press against me, myself moving before I could stop, craving for the friction of skin against skin.

He bit my shoulder roughly, though not enough to make his fangs breach the barrier of my skin. "That deserves a punishment, Pamela. I am not in a merciful mood tonight." There was no mistaking the menace in his words. I trembled.

Then he stretched my left arm above me, securing it with ropes that had a weave of silver in them so that a vampire could not break free, before proceeding to do the same with the other arm. I whimpered when he stepped away from me, feeling the acute loss of the contact between us. The abyss in me burned, needing something to replace the ache.

A soft caress of fingers on my back, his fingers moved further down, slowly exploring my curves, then moving my thighs apart. A moan from me told him exactly what I wanted, but he did not give it to me. Instead those fingers hovered between my legs, not touching, not moving. I whimpered.

"Ahh," he sighed, satisfied before moving his hand away. Following the lines of my legs towards the floor, he proceeded to secure both of them as well.

We'd played this game before, so I thought I knew what would come next, preparing myself for the sting of lashed against my skin, the sweet pain that came from a rain of small stings across the sensitized area. It didn't.

"I'm of mind to play a darker game tonight." I heard his voice from the other side of the room. I knew where he was: the cabinet where all the toys were held. It made me wonder what he had in mind. I strained my ears trying to decipher which toy, what he would pick. "I want something we haven't played with in a while. Something that will make sure you will scream for me." The undiluted pleasure that came with the last statement had me trembling in fear.

There was no warning, nothing that would signify he'd moved before I felt the sting of the flogger descend on my back, the contact so unexpected, sharp, that a small scream erupted from me before I could stop it. I heard his grunt of satisfaction before the next rain of tiny sharp barbs descended, this one making me see red. He'd taken two of them, two floggers, the second with silver on the end.

My vision swam, a red haze descending on me as the pain spread through my body, the wounds slower in healing due to the silver. I felt blood seeping, wetting my skin before the lighter strike hit it again. The unhealed wounds screamed in protest at the lack of mercy, and then they rained on me, relentless as only a vampire can be, and I lost all sense of self, all the resolve, the part of me that would not bend caved under the onslaught.

My pleading turned to ragged begging, and I didn't care. Tears streamed down my face, leaving rivulets of blood that marked my ivory skin. I didn't notice, my mind swimming in the haze of red, and pain.

When he finally stopped, the lack of sound was deafening. I was left whimpering, hanging limply, only the ropes holding me in place.

I felt him moving closer. His hands gripped my hips, twisting me slightly. One smooth thrust and he was in me, filling me. The torrent of my emotions tore me apart, muscles clenching around him as I shuddered helplessly in his hold. A toy for him to play with at his whim.

His tongue flicked out to taste my blood, the wounds closing slowly; I had lost a fair amount of it already. "So ready for me," he groaned and began to thrust into me with such force that I was pressed further and further into the wood with each new thrust he made, my face scraping against the abrasive surface.

One of his hands moved up my back, slick as it was with blood, before sliding around to cup my breast. Fingers shaping, moulding and pinching, it made me mew, savouring the enchanting torture. His movements became more frantic, and when the other hand slipped in between my legs pinching my nub, I fell apart again, screaming for him like he'd promised I would as his rhythm faltered and he released inside me.

He fell on me, my blood making our skins slippery. His breath on my check as he rested his head on my shoulder was cool, fast, faltering.

"Is this what you had in mind, my dove?" he asked me. I shuddered, my body still spasming from the harshness of my release.

"It was a good start," I whispered, completely aware of what my insubordination would mean. The moment I had felt the pain leave me it was back. The void, the emptiness. I couldn't stand it. A hurt far worse than what we'd shared here was in me, and I was helpless in the face of such grief inside me. Helpless to help _him_, craving my own doom.

"Then you will have more, my dove, as much as your little body can stand," he hissed before pulling out of me. The action left me even emptier. I felt another tear spill on my cheek.

Then he turned me around, re-tying the bonds so I was facing him this time. Our eyes burned into each other's as he tied me again, the fire in his scorching me, leaving no room for doubt that he'd do whatever it took to give me what I wanted, needed, craved. A dark passion this one, but one I'd come to find great fondness for.

When he turned towards me again, standing in front of the cabinet, my eyes widened in alarm as I realised what he had in mind. My brain screamed a warning at me, one that I ignored. His smile was predatory while he stalked towards me. "Oh, Pamela, you will enjoy this, my dove. I will enjoy this even more. I have been looking forward to having you like this." His beautiful, merciless face showed me just how much. "I will make it oh so very good for you that you will never forget it." I felt the cruel stirrings of desire as he whispered his last words.

He came to stand far enough that he could take in all of me, his eyes not missing a single detail of my appearance, from my dishevelled hair, to the treacherous trails on my cheeks, and especially not the fast panting of my chest. I felt humiliation flood me under such close scrutiny, the fact that I was here a weakness only few were privy to. I hated him in that moment, and must have betrayed the hate either in my eyes or my face, for he started laughing at me.

"Oh, my dove, I can see you aren't happy with me. I am glad to see it," He suddenly sped towards me, our eyes so close, lips almost touching. "I enjoy smelling it, tasting it on your lips," he said, kissing me hard. His lips put a brutal assault on mine, uncaring of his fangs that ripped my skin in the process. He pulled away, licking my blood off his lips. "Yes, the taste…exquisite."

Then his fun began. He slid the small object he held in his hand between us. I trembled as the blade kissed my skin for the first time. "You will enjoy this, my dove," he whispered as he made the first cut. Oh God, he was so right. The pain had been so different from the harshness of the whip against my back, more focused, stronger, unbelievable in its intensity.

The knife was small compared to the weapons we all carried, but its use specific enough that the size did nothing to detract from it. A small sliver blade, so thin that when it parted skin there had been no pain. The pain came on in a sweetest wave, blossoming as the blood swelled in the wound. True fear rose in me then. I knew he'd mentioned he was not himself. I could plainly see the storm in him wilder than it had ever been. I worried what that would mean for me, and if he would be able to stop in time. For once my maker was not here to protect me, to care for me; he shut the bond. My mind screamed at the blank space, anger and fear eating up what was left of reason. And then there was neither, just the blade. The small silver blade that sliced my skin, leaving behind pain, such beautiful pain that all thoughts fled my mind as my body sang to the tune of my master.

He'd heal the wounds after a while, licking at them until my flesh was free of marks, a perfect canvas for him. Again and again he cut me. I'd never known such agony, never knew I'd crave it until tonight. All the while he whispered to me, telling me things only he could tell; exactly the kinds of things I needed to hear.

I cried and begged him to stop. He didn't listen. He knew I didn't mean it, not really. I cried then for release; he laughed. I was left trembling, every muscle, every cell so taut with tension, so filled with the need to release it was crushing me.

"Ah, my dove, now I will hear you truly scream, now, it's time, scream for me," he whispered in my ear, biting it none too gently.

I shook. The blade sliced into me under my breasts, he slowly pulled it down, a red ribbon of blood following the progress of the silver. I didn't dare move, now, knowing without a doubt his destination. My eyes flew to his, his intent clearly marked in them. Everything in me tensed, waiting, wanting. "Have you had enough yet?" He asked, the progress of the blade inching towards its destination.

"Yes, master." The words weren't even a whisper, they were a breath.

"Scream for me, Pamela, then I will show you mercy." With one swift movement he slid his wrist all the way down, replacing the silver with his mouth just in time.

I screamed for Gregory that night, so that when dawn had come there was nothing left in me to care about the emptiness left behind where Eric should have been.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just play with them._

_xxx_

* * *

As the last light of the sun blinks out of existence life breathes into our bodies. There is no in-between for us, we are dead and then we are not dead. There is no grogginess, no lack of sleep; it is in a way very convenient.

A vampire will tell you that as the years pass they become accustomed to rising in new and often unfamiliar places.

That eve I woke up startled for the first time in decades.

However it was not my surroundings that had me agitated, nor was it my companion per say, I had partaken of Wladimir's hospitality before. After all, one does not wish to walk the streets near to dawn after a night of pleasure.

Strong muscular arms tightened around me, as though my companions could sense my distress. And why not? Gregory knew me better than most and Wladimir—who must have made his way into the chamber at some point during our games was just as familiar with me.

"You cannot feel him still?" Wladimir whispered, his breath showering my skin with cold air kisses.

It wasn't in me to answer. How could I when every ounce of my being was searching for _him_, stretching out in every direction and finding nothing.

The ache I had tried to suppress through carnal games last night was back.

Whimpering I pressed my face into Gregory's arm. There was solace there of a different kind. We've had each other's blood, and so I clung with everything I had to our connection.

It was all wrong. There was no safety in the scents that cocooned me now, although in the past they had been safe enough.

You could not compare the rich taste of my master to that of a mere lover. Yet, it was all I had to drive away insanity.

His hand stroked my hair as he patiently waited for me to regain some control.

The fine silk slithered down my body as I took my first breath of air tasting the many sordid things that had been done last night on the tip of my tongue. The succulent taste of our blood mixed in with the heady perfume of sex stirred something in me, but the feeling was quickly extinguished.

He was not here. I was alone.

The dress I donned for the emperor's ball was a work of art. It was only fair that I should wear my best to seduce an emperor. Even if he wasn't the prize everyone seemed to envision him to be, this was a game I wasn't planning on losing.

If I had been more honest with myself, it was just a way to keep my mind from thinking about Eric.

I had come home to find that my maker was not there. I half expected him to be in our chamber when I opened the door. It had been empty. Cold. Just like the place inside me where his presence had been before last night. Before Appius claimed him again.

Red velvet wrapped around me. I'd forgone the use of a chemise. There was no need for it and I preferred to have the luxurious fabric against my skin rather than plain cotton.

Red, but that wasn't really the colour of it. It was not a true red, more the colour of blood under the moonlight, almost black in its sinfulness. The fabric spilled down my trim figure in folds of soft material, a waterfall of promise, seduction, and sensuality. The sparse, intricate golden black embroidery only added to the effect.

The ensemble reminded me of last night. I'd been covered in blood much the same way before Gregory licked me clean.

Vampires don't share blood often. Exchanging opens a much more intimate link between us if we do; giving someone else such power is reckless. Over the years I shared with few. Gregory had been the first after my maker. It was a level of trust that I shared so much of myself that no one had earned since then. Taken, yes, but never earned.

I briefly regretted my own overindulgence with the twins. It would have been a boon if we could go back for desert later tonight. I sorely needed the distraction the two girls provided.

Reflections of light blonde hair shimmered in the candlelight, providing a nice contrast to the darkness of my dress as my eyes wandered around the room and I caught my own image in the mirror.

The rubies I had glamoured from a particularly vicious old comtesse wrapped around my throat like droplets of blood against my fair skin. The matching smaller stones in my ears only enhanced the effects.

Eric had laughed when he found out how I'd gotten them. Of course he'd also told me not to wear them in France, but this was Russia, and I saw no need for me to hide them.

My edginess kept eating at me. Last night had dulled the edge of pain, but it had by no means erased it. Emptiness was not an easy companion. Gregory had offered hospitality, Wladimir almost insisted I stay, but I declined. It was probably a foolish thing to do, yet in the end both had let me go, knowing I would have been impossible I had stayed with them.

Our servants kept away from me when I came home tonight. My bath was drawn already, clothes pressed and ready when I returned. They were aware of our plans for the evening, Donsov made sure to know these things and read his mistress' mood. It was a pity we could not keep him with us everywhere we travelled.

_He_ wasn't here yet.

It was ten minutes past seven. I was starving and worried. That last emotion was foreign to me, unsettling. My foot danced a tapping dance for the past half-hour as I re-read the pages of whatever book that found its way into my hands. I didn't even notice the title, nor paid any attention to the text. It was irrelevant. Something to keep me occupied while waiting for _him_.

Not for the first time tonight I wished I could go into downtime, but my body refused to acquiesce to my demands. Whatever equilibrium I had found last night in Wladimir's dungeon was long gone. It was so vital for me to see _his_ face again. To know he was alive, still with me, still mine as much as I was his.

Finally, I heard the front door open as Donsov's deep voice sounded out a greeting. I jumped up, and was out in the front hall faster than I should have been, and trying to look less happy than I felt at his return. We had servants, and I should have been more careful, but I was too relieved to see him to care much about anything so trivial.

I skidded to a graceful halt in front of him, taking in every minuscule detail of his appearance while his looked at me with eyes that held…nothing. Glacial ice stared back at me while my fingers found their way up his torso.

He looked a little worse for wear. His usually pristine clothes was rumpled, his cravat was creased from having been used twice without the benefit of being pressed in between uses. His hair would have been in charming disarray if it was made that way by me, but in light of where he had been I would have called it simply bedraggled.

Such an un-Eric thing. He always took pride in his appearance.

"Good evening, Eric," I said, voice small, uncertain.

Desperation rose in me as I searched his face for even a hint of anything. I'd yet to feel his emotions through the bond, a state I had found disconcerting last night. Tonight the barrenness had become unbearable. My body screamed for something it hadn't known was fundamental until taken away.

Eric didn't say anything, just took my hand into his and brought it to his lips. He kissed it lightly while his blue eyes stared into mine with flickers of unfathomable emotion in them, and I could only stare back at him, mute, trying to understand, grasping and failing to catch the prize I sought, my own eyes filling up with rosy tears.

"Come." His voice washed over me like a pleasant summer breeze.

I followed blindly, relieved that he was back, comforted by his hand around mine, and not needing any more enticement than that one word.

The moment the door to his room was shut behind us I was in his arms, squeezed tightly as though I had become his lifeline instead of him being mine. My arms slid around him, the feeling of surrealism forcing me to hold on tighter, make sure he was really here...mine...with me.

I couldn't tell you how long we stood there. Time had no meaning to me then, only him. He was everything. Until last night I had not thought that he would leave me, never pictured my life without him in it, without him in me.

Eric was my everything!

I could feel him relaxing against me, one coiled muscle at a time. Warmth flooded me as our connection opened once again. It seeped into my very soul-if I still had one-and I lost the battle over my emotions as bloody tears slid down my cheeks. Was I crying for him, for us, for myself? I couldn't tell you that even now.

He felt so fragile, passive. The antithesis of the normally self-assured, cocky vampire I'd come to know. Even inside of me the feel of him differed. Flawed, still alive, yet broken in some invisible way I couldn't even begin to fix.

I tilted my head back in silent invitation. He took it. His lips were on mine as he lifted me up to his height, but soft and gentle. Almost reverent in their gentility.

My heart cried out for him as I kissed him back. Infusing the kiss with all the feeling my dead heart had to offer.

How long?

To this day I have never been able to ask that question.

How do you ask the one person who means everything to you how long he had been abused for? How much he had suffered?

You can't.

I daresay that such details are not needed. There are certain truths that should be kept private even from those closest to us. They are our own to bear, each person having their fare share of secret pain.

Eric and I are no exceptions.

He moved us to the bed and laid me gently onto it. Eric had always been gentle with me. Yes, we have had many a passionate moment, I do not deny that. I merely state facts, for Eric had never taken me down the darker path, the path he'd chosen Gregory to show me. Now I understood why, cherishing his thoughtfulness, for surely that is what it was.

The turmoil of emotions had been there that night. Such sweet torture, much more than one would feel at the kiss of a lash or the knick of a blade. Exquisite, and yet I would have given anything for its absence. Perhaps our lovemaking had been better because of it, making me appreciate our reunion even more.

As it was I felt his every caress on my flesh, the closeness of his body to me, his smell, the feel of him on top of me; I felt it all _in_ me. The ache of him inside me blossoming into something I'd yet to experience again. Never had such sweet agony filled me, never do I want it to again. Not at the price it cost him.

There is no way for someone to adequately describe the bond existing between maker and child. There is nothing compared to it, or similar enough to draw a parallel. When open fully, like it was that night, it makes you one. You lose yourself in each other.

It is due to this I could understand why Appius craved Eric badly. There is never such a feeling as one shared between those joined by blood.

Understand I may, but never forgive.

Eric's lips marked my skin, tongue licking every inch of me; a branding that told me in no unquestionable terms how he felt about me.

With infinite skill he roused me to the point where I knew nothing save near fatal desperation to fall. He chuckled when I bit him as he yet again pulled his fingers out of me just as I had crested.

"How is it that you have not mastered patience still?" he asked.

The open smile made me forgive his teasing instantly. I would have killed to keep it there. And indeed I have killed plenty to insure his happiness.

"Please," I said, arching my body closer in invitation.

One kiss. One smooth thrust.

He was in me, and I, in him.

He did not stop for a long, long time and I fell more than once before coming back to reality some time later safe in his arms.

"We need to get dressed or we will be more than fashionably late tonight," I whispered into the quiet darkness surrounding us.

Since Eric wasn't home, the fire hadn't been lit, but it didn't really matter to us. I enjoyed the coolness of the gray room. A sanctuary from what was waiting for us tonight.

His hand traced patterns on my skin as I lay cradled into him. "Yes." But his acquiescence was filled with some reluctance. "Perhaps a bath before we go? Will you plait my hair?"

I smiled into his shoulder. "Are you dressing up as a Viking?" I had loved it when he wore the costume in France.

The violent jerk inside me was so painful I whimpered, realising my mistake too late. Hands instantly soothed me in silent apology.

"No, just the warrior's plait I taught you." He squeezed my thigh before letting me go. "Go call for our baths. I believe I have completely ruined your toilette, and we are running out of time." He kissed my cheek before getting out of bed and heading to our resting place.

I let him be; hoping that the little moment of contentment would be enough to help us both hold onto to the railing during the current gale.


End file.
